Better Off Alone
by Aseph
Summary: The world is full of walking corpses, and bad people. Is getting close to someone even worth it anymore?
1. Stealing

I wasn't sure where I was exactly, but, I had pretty good system going for myself. I was somewhere in the woods and back roads of Georgia. Maybe. It had been about 2 years since the sickness or plague broke out. I lost my family and my group. So I survived alone. I don't know if you could really call it "surviving" but I was alive. I was almost certain I had gone insane and talked to myself frequently, but, things were o.k. considering my circumstances. I kept myself somewhat cheerful during the day by singing songs to myself, trying to remember every word. I figured the walkers couldn't get me at night if I just slept in a tree. So every night, I worked on making my tree-house-hut-thing bigger - adding planks of wood and attempting to put a roof on it. It was poorly built. I will admit that. But it provided me safety to sleep soundly at night. I was no hunter. I could only scavenge and catch frogs, birds, and insects when I was lucky. I had even mustered up enough courage to kill the dead things more efficiently. I had 2 machetes and a re curve bow with 5 arrows. I could kill walkers pretty well with the machetes, but, I was a horrible shot with the bow and arrow. How I had managed to keep myself alive for these years I'll never know. It was dumb luck.

Most of my food, but most importantly, my water, came from stealing. I was a common thief. That was one thing I was excellent at. Sneaking in and running away. I was a coward, but a fast one. I had decided that most people were not to be trusted. So I stayed away from "communities." The first community I found - The Hilltop - provided me fresh vegetables twice a week, when I would sneak under the fence when one of the guards took a nap and didn't notice me. The second community didn't have a name that I knew of, but they lived in a bunch of giant piles of garbage. I got my pillows and wood boards from them. They also talked really weird and actually got on my nerves quite a bit, so I didn't visit them often. The third, Alexandria, was like a completely preserved Suburban heaven. Very difficult to get into, and very tough to steal from. They kept tabs on everything, they were close knit, and they always had guards around their giant walls. But I scored some cool clothes from there.

It was the day I discovered the fourth community, that my life never went back to normal. It was a compound surrounded in fences, dead people, angry looking men, trucks, and barbed wire. At first glance it looked impossible to break into. But I was curious. I didn't have anything to lose. Why not check the place out? And that's what I did. I watched and listened for days. "The Saviors" is what they called themselves. "The Sanctuary" was the place. It didn't take long for me to figure out that they possessed the largest amount of stuff. Edible stuff, drinkable stuff, fun stuff, neat stuff, - stuff I kinda wanted to steal. Although, they looked like the scariest group I had encountered so far, they were also the dumbest. The majority of the community were men. Men not of the brightest background. It wasn't long before I found a way in at the right hour on the right day, and made it out with no worries.

This went on for about 3 months. Inside the compound, they never seemed to be running out of anything. In fact, it was almost like they had more and more stuff whenever I would sneak inside. To put it bluntly, the people in charge of the Sanctuary were assholes, and I didn't feel guilty. My tree house was soon filled with delicious water bottles, granola bars, and soft blankets. I was living like a queen - sleeping in and reading books and eating expired candy. I snuck in during the middle of the night, and as it often goes with thieves, I got a little too greedy. I took two guns, a walkie-talkie, and very cool baseball bat that was resting on the base of a staircase. It was a little risky for me to grab it, but what can I say. I liked shiny things. With everything stuffed inside my backpack I raced back to my safe tree, letting the adrenaline settle, and then slept soundly.

I woke up suddenly to the sound of the walkie talkie buzzing on. A voice spoke - agitated.

"Has anyone seen Lucille?" it asked impatiently.

Who? I thought to myself. I picked up the walkie and listened with intrigue.

"Dwight had her last," it buzzed.

A moment passed. It buzzed on again, "Now how in the hell am I going to beat someone's brains out for losing Lucille, if I don't have Lucille?"

I was so confused.

"DWIGHT?!" I jumped at the angry yell that came from the box. Then I giggled. I couldn't help it. I was like a 10 year old. I was listening to their whole conversation and they didn't even know.

Another voice entered the conversation, "S-sir, Dwight's walkie is missing."

A woman's voice buzzed in next, "And two guns are missing from the armory inventory. Two of the nicer ones."

The grin on my face melted off. Shit. Shit, shit. I looked around my dragon's horde of a tree house. I held the walkie in my hand, waiting for a response.

A low voice, calm and gristly, softly said, "Could everyone, do me a favor? Everyone, if you could just get your heads out of your asses, I would be SO grateful."

It sent a shiver down my spine.

He spoke again.

"Find D a new walkie. Do that first. Find Lucille. Find those guns. I want _EVERYTHING_ back by the end of the day."

"Yes sir." They all replied.

Part of me wanted to say "yes sir" into the walkie and laugh, but I composed myself before I could. I wasn't worried. It wasn't my problem. They weren't going to find me. Not even the dead things found me that often. I was too deep into the woods. That same night, I should've stayed in my hut. I should've just gone to sleep. I should've just stayed hidden. But listening to the man on the walkie get more and more upset about his missing stuff just made my ego puff up too big. I started to get too self confident. I couldn't help but think, "What else could I get my hands on?" I couldn't sleep. My heart was pumped. I had to go back, and take something else. Liquor maybe. That must've been something they wanted - not stolen. I laced up my boots and zipped up my black jacket. I was stupid, but I didn't realize it at the time.

The 2 guards who were supposed to be watching the back fence were gone - as usual. I slipped in through a cut in the fence I had made months ago, and covered it with grass. I wasn't familiar with the layout of the building, but I didn't care. I was Tom Cruise on mission impossible. I could hear the soundtrack playing in my head. I turned a few corners and opened a closet door - cleaning supplies. Next. I ran down some empty halls with locked handles. Until finally, one door was open. And on a table, in the corner of the room, there it was. Something I didn't even know I wanted. A giant jar of pickles. I confidently walked in, picked it up and walked out. I had almost made it to the end of the hall, when a voice made me jump.

"Hey!"

The jar of pickles dropped with a loud smash, as glasses scattered everywhere, echoing through the empty hall.

I turned. Before me stood the dumbest savior I had seen yet. A stout man, with a horrendous mullet.

"Those are mine! My pickles!" he said in dismay. "Who the hell are you?"

I threw my hood over my hair, turned on my heel and began to run. I could hear angry boots running after me.

"Catch him around the corner!" I heard one of them yell.

"Corner? What corner?" I thought. But it was too late. Boom! I turned a corner and my face collided into someone's chest at full speed. I was surrounded. I had no pickles. I had nothing shiny. I was caught.

I was suddenly thrown to the ground, face first, feeling my nose hit the ground. One of them grabbed a fistful of my jacket and propped me up to my feet like a ragdoll. I could feel blood running down from my nose.

"Oh shit, it's a girl," one of them laughed.

One of them stepped forward. An ugly guy, bald with a pervy mustache. He grabbed my wrists and tied them with rope. "Guy or gal - we don't tolerate robbers 'round here." He smiled at me and marched me down the hall.

"Come on man, it was just pickles," I said, blood still dripping down my lips.

He laughed and opened a door to a small concrete room and shoved me inside.

"Make yourself comfortable," he chuckled. He shut the door, locked it and walked away.


	2. Caught

To my surprise I fell asleep in that concrete box. Suddenly the door swung open and light flooded my eyes. My ass had fallen asleep and drool was falling off my bloodied chin. I shook myself awake and squinted. A woman with a neck tattoo kicked my leg and handed me a glass of water.

"Thank you," I said.

She looked at me, as if she was shocked to hear me say those words. She then furrowed her eyebrows and slammed the door shut again. I was left in the dark. Why would she give me water? Why not just shoot me?

Now, I don't want to say I had given up on life. But, I had nothing left to lose. I wasn't unhappy. But I wasn't completely opposed to just dying and not having to live in a world that smelled like rotting flesh all the time. I wasn't scared to die. And they weren't unjustified to do so if they chose to kill me.

I leaned my head back against the wall and sighed. I tried to fall asleep again, but couldn't. I sipped the water slowly for what seemed like hours. Finally the door opened again.

A large man stood in the doorway, with two other men standing behind him. He looked down at me for a long time.

He then bent at the knees and slowly came down to a squat, look at my face intently. I looked back. He had a on a red scarf, tucked into his worn black leather jacket. Something about him told me he was in charge, without him having to verbally tell me so. He smiled to one side and spoke:

"Well, well, well," he rumbled. "We've finally caught our culprit!"

He grinned wide, showing his perfect row of white teeth.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm sorry about the pickles," I said.

He chuckled and stood up, walking into the cell. "Oh no, no. You took more than just pickles, didn't you?"

"Well, I didn't actually take the pickles, I dropped them," I replied.

He scrunched his eyebrows together and looked down at me disapprovingly.

I smirked, feeling the dried blood on my face crinkle.

An awkward pause passed.

"You know what? I am pretty damn sure that you're the one who took Lucille," he boomed.

I replied quickly, "Oh no. I may be a thief, but I'm not a kidnapper,"

His eyebrows scrunched even closer together. He bent down again threateningly.

"Where is my shit?" he yelled.

"Who is Lucille?!" I yelled back.

He pulled his head back, surprised that I had the gall to yell at him. But he smiled at me, as if he liked it. He then leaned in and whispered in my ear.

"Lucille is my partner in crime. Smooth. Beautiful. Wrapped in barbed wire?" he looked at me.

My eyes widened, realizing what he was talking about.

"There ya go. Now you're remembering!" He patted my shoulder. "You wouldn't happen to know where she is, would you?"

"I might," I said.

"Perfect," he grinned. "Dwight, let's get - what did you say your name was?" he asked me.

I looked at the ground. My name. What was my name? No one has called me by my name for the last two years. What was my name? I scrolled through my empty brain trying to remember my name. Dwight and the large man raised their eyebrows at me. What was my name?

"Lily," I finally blurted out.

The large man smiled. "Dwight, let's get Lily cleaned up. She and I are goin' on an outing to pick up Lucille this afternoon."

Dwight grabbed me by my upper arm and marched me down the hall to a nicer room with bed and a bathroom. He gave me a push and said, "Clothes are laid out for you on the bed. Hurry up."

I complied. My nose wasn't broken, thank goodness, but the crusted blood was a bitch to clean up. I was changed and ready in 10 minutes. Dwight took me up the stairs. The compound was full of people. Old people, young people, macho guys, fat guys, all kinds. The large leather jacket leader guy was leaning against the rails, looking down on them. A woman walked up to him.

"Negan, the car's ready," she spoke like a soldier.

Negan? My eyes widened again. So this was the leader. The scary leader guy all the other communities talked about. He seemed harmless. He turned to me and arched his back.

"How were you getting in and out?" he asked sweetly.

"There's a hole in the south side of the fence," I responded.

Negan gave someone a nod. I group of men nodded back and headed toward the south side of the fence. Negan started walking towards the doors and went outside. Dwight gave me a shove to follow him. We walked towards a large truck and Dwight sat me down in the back seat, then went to the driver's seat. Negan sat happily in shotgun, whistling.

"You just tell us where your stop is, darlin." he said.

We drove for about 3 minutes.

"Okay, stop here," I said.

"Seriously, you live this close to us?" Dwight said.

We all hopped out and began walking through the woods towards my tree house. It was an awkward walk. Finally I stopped in the middle of some trees and pointed a finger upwards.

"You live in a tree?" Dwight asked.

"I live in a tree." I confirmed.

Negan was smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. He pulled down the rope ladder and climbed up.

"Sir-" Dwight protested.

"Holy shit, look at this," I heard him say excitedly, sticking his head into the small wood house. "Lucille! Baby!" He grabbed the baseball bat and handed it down to Dwight. "Here's your walkie," he said. Dwight shot me a look. "Oh! And these look familiar!" he handed down the two shiny guns to Dwight as well.

He climbed back down and grabbed Lucille, swinging her over his shoulder. He gazed at me without blinking.

"Dwight!" he ordered without breaking eye contact with me, "unload the rest of that shit and put it in the truck,"

I broke eye contact with Negan and looked at the barbed wired bat on his shoulder.

"Is this the part where you hit me like a dike swingin' at a softball?" I gulped.

He laughed out loud. "That's a good line, I gotta remember that one!" He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

"Walk." He ordered.

I walked.

"How long have you been stealing from me?"

"4 months,"

"Did you think you'd get away with it?"

"Yes sir,"

"Sir? Oh, I like that," he grumbled. "Turn around,"

I turned around.

"I want an apology," a genuine one.

"I apologize for stealing from the saviors. I'm sorry." I said. "It won't happen again. But can I at least keep my sleeping bag?"

"What?" he laughed.

"I'll freeze to death. Just let me keep one sleeping bag and maybe a bottle of water," I pleaded.

"Oh, no no. I'm not leaving you here. You're coming with me."


	3. Uneasy

My eyebrows raised. I stuttered. "Oh no, no thank you."

He grinned, showing his perfect white teeth.

"Oh, I wasn't asking," he chuckled.

"I just am... well... I just do better on - on my own, and I... I don't really work well in groups. Or with people. I like uh... um... solitude? I guess... and I can move. Like, off your turf...or whatever. I mean... I'm not gonna... bother you... or anythi-..." my voice trailed off.

He was still smiling at me. Looking me up and down. I was not smiling. My eyes widened. Dwight broke the silence with an echoing shout.

"Sir! You might wanna come take a look at this,"

Negan, still smiling, turned and walked over. I followed. Dwight was pointing to my small row of plants surrounded by the safety of chicken wire at the base of my tree house. Negan looked down at the plants. Then back at me. He began to chuckle.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked rhetorically.

I nodded.

"Dig 'em up!" he ordered to Dwight.

"No!" I protested! "I just barely got that to grow!"

I stepped forward, but Negan put his arm straight out, blocking me, and grabbed my shoulder again.

"You know," he said while combing through his beard, "just when I think I've found all the neat, free, and interesting things available to me in this godforsaken world, the universe surprises me - by dropping a stealing, sassy, pothead, _beautiful_ woman at my doorstep," he stepped forward and looked down at me, grabbing my jaw in his right hand. "We can bring the marijuana with us, doll. Don't screw up, now."

My heard pumped in my chest.

With my jaw still in the firm grip of his gloved hand. He turned my head to the right, and to the left, examining me. Finally, he let go. He smirked, and playfully bumped me on the chin with his fist.

"Boy, are you in for a treat,"

Again, he turned me around and ordered me to walk to the truck. I wasn't sure what to do. Whether I needed to run away, or comply, I wasn't sure. He didn't seem threatening, but he did at the same time. Dwight put my plants in an empty plastic bin and loaded them into the truck. I thought Negan would be sitting in shotgun next to Dwight, but instead the truck started up, and Negan climbed into the backseat with me. Dwight looked straightforward, like a soldier. Negan didn't say anything but continued to look at me. After a few seconds he placed his hand on my inner knee, possessively, and looked out the window. I didn't move his hand, or say anything. I stared straight forward, like Dwight, and tried not to show how uneasy I was.

The short ride seemed much longer going back to the compound. Negan didn't speak again, he only jumped out of the truck and walked away. I didn't see him for the rest of the day. Instead, Dwight babysat me, showing me to a place where I could plant my grass, and then making me return everything I stole. Everyone at the compound, all the saviors, began to stare at me. Some would point and laugh, others would whisper and laugh, while others would only look for too long, then look away. The sun began to set and Dwight took me back to the room with a bed and bathroom.

"You're not gonna keep me in a cell?" I asked.

"Nope," was all he said.

He went to close the door and walk out.

"Why am I here?" I asked earnestly before he could leave.

Dwight's eyes shifted to the ground. He sighed.

"Negan gets what he wants. Always." he said as he closed the door.


End file.
